


Club Dead

by lia_bezdomny



Series: Hannigram - Or the series, where I put the Murder Husbands into other TV shows and movies. [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV), True Blood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder Husbands, Shenanigans, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lia_bezdomny/pseuds/lia_bezdomny
Summary: “Oh I'm sorry, your eminence! Is my peasant gob noise too offensive for your regal ears?” “It would be your excellency, Count Lecter, if I'm not mistaken.”My vampire therapist is part of royalty. Don't ask him, if he has a cape. I remind myself.“You are a count and a vampire?” One bat, two bats, three bats, muhahaha.---Hannibal/True Blood part three.





	Club Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, no Hannibal related pun here. Even I'm not that cheap to call it Club du Morte. And I know they use “Maker” in both, the show and the books but that just sounds silly.

Hannibal arrives at my door at precisely nine o'clock. Since the sun went down just ten minutes ago, I wondered for a second how he made the one hour drive in the sun, and then I remember the decked out car. If he could afford that, I was pretty sure, he also had a garage to accompany it.

 

“Hello Will.” He slightly nods and stands at my porch. “Hello, thanks for doing this.” He nods again and doesn't move. “Is something wrong?”

“You have to invite me in.” “Excuse me?” _That was really a thing?_ _Well, well, maybe Buffy had more to offer than shirtless Spike. I might have to rewatch that show. For research, obviously._

 

“We cannot enter a humans home without being invited.” “Uhm okay. And if I don't want you to come back, then what?” He looks at me questioningly but then gets where I'm coming from.

“Then you can recant it. If you get the chance.” I think it over and then vacate the door with a:

“Hannibal Lecter, I would like to invite you into my home.” “Thank you.”

A few moments later we sit in my living room in front of Hannibal's tablet and I get my second glimpse into the vampire world: A website for the bar, we were about to visit. It is called _Fangtasia_ of all things.

 

“You are kidding me.” “You thought we were still in the dark ages? Conducting our business through carrier bats?”

“No, but don't you have to be more... Secretive?” I point to the screen. “I can type in the address into any browser.”

“Only if you use our hardware and access the specific servers. If you'd use your computer, you would get a website for a dog salon.” I look at the page and once again wonder, how I could miss the entire subculture of vampire groupies.

“This looks like a Disney World theme park ride.” “You've been to Disney World?”

“My dad had a fishing job in Florida. I had a job as a Disney Prince.” “You, a prince?” Hannibal laughs and it is also the first time I hear it.

“Oh I'm sorry, your eminence! Is my peasant gob noise too offensive for your regal ears?” “It would be your excellency, Count Lecter, if I'm not mistaken.”

My vampire therapist is part of royalty. _Don't ask him, if he has a cape._ I remind myself.

“You are a c _ount_ and a _vampire_?” _One bat, two bats, three bats, muhahaha._

“As far as I know, my home country has abolished royalty, when the Russians did. But I was born to a Count and a Countess.” He looks at me for a second too long and sealed off mind to me or not, I knew what he was thinking:  
Too much information.

“We should better get on our way.” “Very well. What are you going to wear?” His expression makes me bite back “Uhm this” and I go upstairs to change.

 

After Hannibal has approved an outfit for me to wear - dress shirt, black slacks and a blazer – we are on our way. The Bentley looks even more luxurious from the inside and I try not to gawk at the interior. Of course, Hannibal notices it and I feel even more like a country bumpkin. But he has the courtesy ignore it and instead briefs me on the code of conduct:

 “Remember, if a vampire there makes unwelcomed advances towards you, you are going to say, “You are someones”. Do not let anyone know what you are capable of. You will only speak, when spoken to until I say otherwise. This is for your protection, so don't question me and I can see your eyerolling in the side mirror.” “Sorry.” I begin and can not think of anything else to say. He was the expert, after all.

“I... I've asked you to accompany me. But I have a hard time getting told what I have to do. I appreciate, what you are about to do for me.” He nods and we pull into the parking lot.

*** 

After getting carded at the door, we make our way to a booth, furnished in red leather seats and a cold, grey metal table. I take a minute to look around. It wasn't as corny, as I expected it to be. The dress code of the bartenders and servers was black, low cut and goth for both genders – hurray for equality I guess – but apart from that and the framed pictures of famous movie vampires, it could have been a regular bar. Before I can relay my observation to Hannibal, I hear a scream and see a pudgy, bald man tumbling to the ground. He has a nasty gash on his forehead and immediately gets circled by a group of vampires, before a thin, latex clad woman helps him up and leads him away.

My vampire therapists nostrils flutter for a split second before he raises an eyebrow and asks:  
“So, you still think this is like Disney World?” I chose to ignore that comment and let my guard down. I'm used to sexually explicit fantasies but this place takes the cake. After about five minutes, I cannot handle it anymore and turn to Hannibal:  
“All these people think about is sex.” The look I get is so smug, that I'm really tempted to forget the manners my grandma taught me:  
“You don't need to be a mindreader to pick up on that.” Instead of rolling my eyes, I look the other way and then I see her. She locks eyes with Hannibal, he nods and then he pulls me to my feet and walks over.

 

The woman sits on a throne – no, really, it looks like something out of a fantasy movie -, with long, red hair and blue eyes. She is dressed in a short leather pencil skirt and a red, tight long sleeved shirt under a black corset, accompanied by a serious case of resting bitch face, as Beverly would have put it.

 “Margot.”

They nod at each other again - that seems to be the equivalent of a handshake in vamp world - and we take a seat.

“Hannibal told me about your situation, Mr. Graham. And he insinuated that I might be able to help out.” “Uhm... yeah. I hope so.” I take the two photos of Dawn and Maudette out of my pocket and show it to her.

“This one, I had.” She points at Dawn's picture. “She was not new to our ways and certainly willing to participate. The other one reeked of desperation.”That seems to be all she has to say about the women.

“Do you know who brought them here, mam?” “That,” she says and leans in a little closer.

“Is a thing we do not notice here.” Margot shudders, just slightly and continues.

“What I can say is, whoever brought the willing one was taking good care of her. So she had a sponsor. The desperate girl... Well, there are some black sheep among us, desperate enough to take whatever they can but timid or too stupid to dispose.” _Lovely image_ , I think to myself and Margot waves her hand to signal that for her, the conversation was over. Hannibal seems to agree, nods again and leads me out of the bar.

 ***

I wait until we are in the car before I speak:

“Margot.” “What about her?”

“She is your... vampire kid, isn't she?” He doesn't even ask me how I know.

“I'm her sire, yes.” “Okay.” That is more information than I thought I would get from him.

“Okay?” “Yes. It is not my place to pry. Even though I want to, but I'm pretty sure my questions will be as offensive to you, as the outfit I was wearing before you made me change.” He quirks his lips and reaches for his seatbelt. About five minutes into the drive, Hannibal seems to remember the reason for our visit:

“So,” my vampire therapists asks, eyes fixed on the road. “Did you find anything out? Beside parts of my family history?”

“No, well, nothing that would bring me any closer to the murderer.” It feels surreal to say that word, maybe because I knew at least one of the victims.

“But if it interests you, all the humans in there wanted to sleep with you.” “I don't believe you.” He changes lanes and takes the exit to get to Wolf Trap.

“I'm a telepath, Hannibal. Trust me, all of them. Every single one.” “I will keep that in mind.” We pulls up in front of my house and before I even have time to undo my seat belt, Hannibal has already opened the car door for me.

 

We stand there awkwardly for a few seconds – well, I stand there awkwardly, he looks like a beautiful, marble statue – before I extent my hand and say:  
  
“Well, thank you for your company, this evening. I appreciate it. And if I can do something for you...” Before my brain can react, Hannibal cups my face in his hands and kisses me.

“Think nothing of it. We will see each other again.” The Bentley has pulled out of my driveway, long before my mouth is able to formulate the appropriate reaction:

  
“Huh?” I always had a way with words.

 


End file.
